Only Now
by Acorrani
Summary: The final act unravels, bringing only destruction. Still, John and Tali have each other to hold on to.


The tower's controls sit before them, and the station's shuttered Wards bathe them in a myriad orange lights.

" _Saera_ ," John welcomes her to the console and grunts quietly after the gesture.

" _Bosh'tet_ ," she whispers. His shoulder is certainly not in a condition to make even such small moves.

The controls are not protected in any way - they were not supposed to be here - and now the fate of the entire galaxy lies in the gloved hands of a quarian. She has a bitter smirk over the fact. But there aren't any options. She goes through the simple procedures of expanding the Wards until there is one last confirmation in the way. Her hand stops momentarily and trembles, fingers stretched, over the interface. And John is suddenly there, his healthy arm slipping around her waist, his voice whispering some inappropriate, laughable, stereotypical reassurance, and she is no longer afraid of what will come.

They see the lights blink in a wave across the great surfaces, and, like petals, the Wards start into motion. She had thought before, the Citadel resembles a giant mass driver round, but now all she sees in it is a blossoming flower. She blames John and his once strange ways that are now hers, too. She did not experience so much of the universe until the very few recent years. Even then, it's been a momentary glance, enough to capture but the obvious, surface detail. But she would never wish for another guide. Time is the only thing she despises right now. The lack of it.

Through the gaps between the Wards growing wider with every second they witness the grand finale outside. The blackness of space above the human Homeworld is almost absent, lost in the glittering swarms of vessels caught in the last battle and the blinding resplendence of their armaments all brought forth against the common foe. The dark, menacing silhouettes are but outshadowed in the fury, but, she sadly knows, the image is deceiving. The unity is bound to hold only mere minutes longer.

She calculates the coordinates, and points the direction out to John. Moments later, a gathering of ships drops out of FTL at the spot, a gigantic needle amidst them. Most of these are her people's ships, and the needle, called the _Crucible_ , holds everyone's fiery salvation. She notes the _Rayya_ , her birthship, its sphere made to produce the food for the third of the Fleet now projecting destruction and John nods silently.

The vessels rush towards the station and the enemy attempts to react, but it is too late. The dark ships are hopelessly tied in the battle they would have won. But they are not meant to stop. They clash with the united fleet, and the void sparkles, every large flash a hundred or thousand lives. For a time she cannot look and instead inclines her masked head towards John. He wrinkles his nose uncontrollably and she is reminded of her veil, singed hopelessly in the run. She exhales and instead turns to face him.

His helmetless visage is battered and skin damaged in places (she shivers), but the eyes hold the same depth and determination they did when they first met, with affection having been introduced at some point into their missions that she had herself horribly missed, until they both came clear through accidental and painstakingly awkward dialogue. She wants only to hold him.

"One of these rare moments when I'm at a loss concerning what to say, and most of them have been experienced with a certain person," John tries to raise her spirit.

"This... isn't my exact idea of how it should have ended..."

"Neither mine," he says. "I was going to fulfil the promise."

"...but it is close enough for me to be happy. If you are, too, then nothing else matters," she says, searching his eyes for affirmation.

"I am," he responds, and she knows it is true.

And - "Tali, look" - he directs her attention towards the view.

The enormous hulk of the _Crucible_ finally soars into the unraveling flower of the Wards, shedding layers and layers of protection; and she pulls him closer, and he reciprocates, the countless memories of them meeting, and living, and fighting, and going, and mourning flash before her and disappear until there is only _now_ , where they are together, inseparable any more. Outside (she feels the shudder) the _Crucible_ latches onto the tower with a ceaseless grasp, and she clutches her fingers even more around John, and knows that all the Reapers in the world are powerless against both of these...

She finds she is struggling to breathe, and he knows, and weakens his embrace, until it is enough for them to look into each other's eyes. She becomes aware of the cursed mask from the whine of her suit's moisture absorber, moves a hand towards the release, because what would be the point of hiding her face _now_? But John gently stays her hand. Of course, he wouldn't let her endanger herself, and he remembers her face anyway from all those times shared together. She snickers softly at the sweet pointlessness of his gesture, warmed with the knowledge he is her life-mate not any less than she is his. John's face is full of his usual grin, yet it is tinged with concern.

She traces the contours of his face with her two gloved fingers, careful not to deliver pain by touching a bruise, and his features soften.

"Never let go..." she whispers.

"I'd hate to spoil the moment," he says, more smug than uncertain.

The energy level warnings scream, and she turns off her omnitool and settles her hands around John.

Then she inclines her head and smiles, against all odds. He does, too.


End file.
